The Emerald Daughter of Illusion
by AlouciaFaye
Summary: On a battle-ridden planet, a small boy is kidnapped, and several more inhabitants are missing. The Doctor and Rose brightly take on the task of finding out the origins of a self-sustaining energy force and where those people have gone.
1. Chapter 1

The row of gathering crowds divided only slightly to let way to two small children. Giggling, and bristling with excitement, they hurried past spectators and merchants alike; several times, bumping into pairs of legs, or hand baskets. When small bits of fruit or the occasional trickling of lettuce leaves fell upon their bouncing heads, they giggled with delight all the more. They found shelter from the raging merchant at the vegetable stand, and his equally annoyed patron just under a wooden table cattycorner from said booth on the other side of the long stretch of path. Other stalls like it, varying in size and goods sold, lined either side of the dusty street. The air was heavy with the scent of cooking meat, thick smoke, and over-ripen fruits and vegetables.

The sound of the elderly man yelling obscenities at the small children was quickly drowned away by the sound of an old generator kick starting, sputtering and roaring to life behind them. The rickety old generator fumed and groaned, spitting oil and smoke under the butchers display table, and into their faces.

The children coughed and choked, waving their hands in front of their faces to alleviate the rolling curls of dense smoke from their air passages. When the smoke cleared, they beam at one another with broadening grins. Then, burst into giggles once again.

"Reckon Mister Hruag will tell your Mum?" the young boy chokes out finally, hugging his dirty and scraped knees to his chest, the space under the table hardly enough to be occupied by a single child, let alone two. His shaggy and unkempt silver hair strayed in front of his blue eyes, and his smile brightly spread from one ear to the other. "Bet you."

"_My _Mum? What about yours? Your Mum has a fiery temper, she does." The girl crouched beside him jabbed the boy in the arm with her index finger. The dark skin of her face was smeared with dirt. "Your Mum is downright horrible."

With a sign of reluctant agreement to that fact, the boy nodded his head heavily. It wasn't so much as a nod, as it was a heavy wobble of his neck as if his head was too much for his scrawny neck. The girl gave a sympathetic smile, though not nearly as large as the one that the boy wore before. Staring at each other for a short while, they both jumped when they heard the ear-splitting yell of her name from somewhere in the crowd.

"Aloucia!" the voice called out again, piercing through the tumultuous gathering.

"Speaking of the devil." the boy grinned jokingly, his light eyebrows rising into his fringe, but Aloucia was less than enthusiastic.

"See you later. Come by tomorrow, yeah?" Aloucia muttered softly, scrambling from the safety of their makeshift hideout.

With a nod of his head, he watched as his friend disappeared into the throng of people, shifting between hips, baskets and porcelain vases. The boy remained seated, huddled underneath the wooden supply display table, having nowhere to go at the present moment. Going home now would likely lead to a thrashing. Judging by the looming darkness that dusk inevitably brought, meant staying out in the cold again. He opted for the bitter cold.

The small inland village began its subtle switch from busy chores and last minute haggling between merchants and customers, to the lazy bustle of its inhabitants settling in for the evening. One by one, the village occupants dipped inside their tents and huts. Several of the flickering lights seen through open windows died out, and smoke puffed insistently from various snuffed bonfires throughout. But, through the chill of the night air, there was a bitterly uneasy feeling on the wind that whipped from the tops of the canyon walls. Though the small village remained silent within their homes, each and every human huddled together. Not only for warmth, but for the security they found with one another.

Aloucia and her family were no different. She sat by the windowsill, sipping tea from a poorly hand crafted porcelain mug. The downpour outside began a steady pace against her window. The tea was bitter, and burnt, latching indiscriminately to every single taste bud. She stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose, lapping at the air and the roof of her mouth simultaneously to rid her mouth of the taste, but with little to no luck. Aloucia just set the steaming mug of tea down on the seat next to her, and stared at the window. All she heard was the soft shuffling of feet behind her, and the persistent tapping of a pen against a pad of paper.

Her mother busied herself with chores around the house, mumbling something incoherently about a worthless daughter whom hadn't even bothered to lift a finger to help. Aloucia released an exasperated sigh against the glass of the window, her hot breath creating a small circle of fog. Her father, on the other hand, scratched briefly at his worried brow with the non-writing end of a pen. His palm cupped his jaw uncomfortably, while his elbow remained perched on the desk. He stared intently at the paperwork laid out before him; diagrams and lists, all pertaining to shipping ledgers and available space on a freight ship. Aloucia spied on her father for a moment, using his reflection from the window she sat at. Finally certain he wasn't going to do much else than stare at the documents, she focused her gaze past his and her own reflections, to stare outside again.

Then came the rain, tumbling from the heavens. Lightning brightened the cliff that loomed overhead, the pale stone face gleaming under the dual harsh intensity of the lightning and rain. After another flash of lighting, Aloucia counted the seconds. Her father told her once that if she was to count the seconds after a bolt of lightning cracked the sky and until the thunder rolled by, she would be able to tell how close the bolt struck. Or how far, as the case usually was. One, Two, Three, Four, Five… The thunder rolled deafening overhead, rattling against the windows and through her heart. Five seconds, five miles. When the thunder finally settled in the distance, all she could hear then was the tapping of the rain on her window. It remained so, until…

A low pulsing whine captured her attention. Aloucia thought that maybe it was her imagination, captivated by the pouring rain outside. Certainly not, she thought as the sound came louder still, even at a distance. The pulse of the high pitched whine grew longer and longer with each wave of sound, echoing softly against the canyon walls. When her imagination got the better of her, the sound brought the image of a wailing sea monster to her head, submerged under miles of water. That couldn't possibly be true, she thought. It abruptly stopped with a shuddering pound, like the thunder from before. But she knew better, and this was something different. Just as she was about to turn her head and tell her father, there he was, peering out the same window, his head lowered to level with hers, and his chin just over her shoulder.

"Wonder what that was then, eh?" He grinned stiffly to the young girl, who returned the smile albeit more enthusiastically.

Another bolt of lightning scarred the sky, though this time the father and daughter noticed a shadow stalking through the muck and mud outside. Both squinted through their respective reflections, straining to see the figure.

The figure was indeed human, or looked that way at a glance; walking along on two legs, hands dangling casually by its side, its frame and stature lanky and tall. The atmosphere outside darkened again, leaving little trace of the figure outside. The sky lit up enough again in the wake of another lightning bolt. In that instant, both of them could make out a man, dressed in a well tailored suit and long brown coat. Mud caked and clung to his coat, trousers, and shoes, but still he trudged through the thick mess outside, his hands stashed away deep in his pockets. The man briefly looked at the two startled faces in the window. Another strike of light claimed the man's face. He was young looking, about mid-thirties with a day's worth of stubble on his chin. His hair messily laid flat over his head due to the rain, and side-burns stretched down to just below his earlobes. The steely gaze in his brown eyes was matched only by the storm swirling above. The body moved away before the eyes broke their contact a moment later.

Aloucia and her father stared for a moment longer before retreating their gaze to one another. Her father lifted an eyebrow, and narrowing his eyes at her as if ready to ask, "Who was that?" But the words never came, and Aloucia feigned a careless shrug, until further movement clutched at their attention once again.

The same tall man, stalked past again, heading in the same direction as where he came. Instead, this time, he clutched the limp form of a boy's body under his left arm. And he did not stop to stare at the two gawking faces this time round. The soaking silver locks and gangly limbs of the listless boy was all that Aloucia needed to know that it was her friend from the market.

"Verul!" Aloucia screamed at the top of her lungs, but it was still not enough to get his captor to halt, or even flinch.

Her father was already on the move to the front door of the small hut, shouldering the door open and bounding out into the downpour. Aloucia spun her head around from the front door to watch out her window again, her heart setting a fast pace inside her throat. Moments turned to minutes of waiting, then steadily to a couple of hours.

Aloucia's mother patted gently at her daughters shoulder to ease the torturous anxiety. By this time, several of the towns' people had joined in the search for her friend, told to by her father she could only guess. They darted this way and that through the muddy streets, a few heading to the foot hills. The front door opened again, revealing her father's form standing ridged and soaked in the doorway, empty handed.


	2. Chapter 2

The faint hum of the TARDIS occupied the otherwise silent atmosphere of the console room. The lights were brought up to standard setting, illuminating the grated floor surface and the control panel itself from above and below. However, shadows dotted the organic walls and substructures of the circular room where light couldn't possibly reach. A faint blue and green from the control panel highlighted the captain's chair, a simple two seating cream colored cushion mounted to the support bars crowning the rounded panel, merely held together with duct tape.

The lights seemed to be focused on the main happenings of the room, which took place more or less on said jump seat. A checkers board was displayed over one side of the captain's chair. The black and red game pieces were scattered amongst the black and red grid.

Rose was the first to make a sound; a light huff of air escaping her lips, blowing upward to rid her face of an onslaught of golden locks. It didn't stir the other member of her occupying company. In fact, he remained dead set on concentrating his undivided attentions to the still unmoving board. Rose blankly stared between the checker pieces and the Doctor. She sat uncomfortably on the jump seat, opposite the checker board and her opponent. One arm slung over the back of the chair, while one knee was brought up into the seat, its attached foot tucked under her opposite knee, to which the rest of the other leg swung freely to the floor. Though, at this rate, the foot tucked under her was steadfastly going numb.

"Doct--" Rose began, but was promptly hushed. Rose rolled her eyes, but the gesture went unnoticed.

The Doctor, a young looking man for his age of well over 900-years-old, sat cross-legged on the grated floor. If his long limbs were going numb, he wasn't letting on. His chin was perched on the edge of the jump seat, so to glance down at the board in front of him with nearly crossed eyes. When he'd open his mouth then close it again, letting another half imagined thought go unsaid, his head would gradually rise and fall with the movement of his jaw. For another 5 minutes he seemed blissfully unaware of Rose, and the gentle hum of the TARDIS. The Doctor was lost in thought, those chocolate brown orbs gazing through the checker board rather than at it. Rose was sure now that he wasn't actually thinking about checkers, but of something else entirely, like random calculations.

Rose was about to speak up again in protest, that is until she noticed his eyebrows rising slowly to meet with the fringe of his unruly hair. Surprise dawned in his boyish brown eyes. She wasn't certain what he planned to do, in regard to the game. She had his red chips closely guarded, unable to move unless he was going to sacrifice another soldier in this battle. There was one little red chip that went unobserved by her eye. And that was the one he was looking at. A long, drawn out, rueful chuckle ensued and soon he was jumping from his place on the floor.

The Doctor untangled his long limbs and rolled to a stand, bouncing once on the balls of his feet. That trademark smug grin of his plastered from ear to ear. He lent over just enough to stretch his arm out, reach for that lonely little red checker piece with his thumb and index finger, and make his move.

Roses jaw went slack as he quickly, and without mercy, jolted his little mate two spaces over her black piece to the right, then to the left, over another, then to the right again. He preceded this little tactic of zigzag until finally there was nothing left of her shiny black forces. The Doctor ended his turn by slipping his winner home, across the board from where it started, into her territory.

"King me!" He exclaimed as he pointed giddily to the board, hopping from one foot to the other in a sort of victory dance.

"Ugh," was all that Rose could muster, "You cheated!" She stated as if a-matter-of-factly, dropping a red chip over top of his lucky champ.

"Ah, wait, what? How did I cheat? That was a completely legal move!" The Doctor stuttered, flashing his eyes from her face to the indicated checkers, his eyebrows coming together to fix her with an indignant frown.

"On Pluto, maybe. But not here!" She scowled.

He challenged her with an even more indignant stare. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned heavily against the TARDIS controls.

"Plutonians don't play checkers. Besides, you didn't want to play chess. I like chess." The Doctor sneered childishly at his companion, about two gestures away from sticking out his tongue.

Rose gave him a side long incredulous glance. The Doctor inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, glancing down his nose at Rose. Without warning, he burst into a large grin and spun around on his heels.

"So!" He began, "Where do you want to go? I know of a great little planet were the people wear aluminum on their heads! Oh, no no wait, that's still Earth. Oh! Speaking of Earth! Did you know there is actually a planet that adores the Hawaiian Islands? So much so, that they've made their whole planet into a resort based on its likeness? Oh, yes-ah!" He stated excitedly in one breath while flipping switches, yanking levers, and pressing buttons.

"Really? What's it called?" Came Roses voice from behind him as she started to clean up his mess of checkers. She usually found herself cleaning up after him, her 'childlike' Time Lord; always one to start something, never one to stick around and clean up. She tipped the board and let the checker pieces fall freely into the box, then folded the board up and fit it tightly in the box.

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows visibly kneading together again. "Hawaii, of course. What else would they call it?" He shook his head at her, his silly ape companion.

And with that, he turned a makeshift knob and slammed down on another lever on the other side of the console with the tip of his shoed toe. The TARDIS lurched forward, knocking Rose hard against the console. Luckily, she braced herself against it with her open palms before her head had a chance to make contact. The box of checkers and its board scattered and skittered along the floor.

The Doctor braced her shoulder with one hand, while keeping the other on the controls, a manic and delighted grin plastered to his face. The room around them shuddered; the TARDIS tossed this way and that. Soon, Rose caught his infectious smile and joined him. The TARDIS itself spinning and twirling in the vortex toward their destination.

With a jolt and an echoing thump, they landed and materialized. Neither of them really knew what would await them outside his trusted ships' doors. The Doctor caught her glance, and beamed proudly.

"Not so bad! Could have been worse." He stated, stretching out a hand to catch the monitor in his clutch and spin it around to face him, simultaneously lowering a lever.

He stared at the screen for a moment, briskly looking over the information pouring through. Or, at least to him it was pouring information down the screen. Though, Roses' scrutiny was a little less than based on knowledge. She cocked her head to the side, nearly leaning on his shoulder to look at the readings. To her, the screen was just full of obscure circles and shapes, and a diagram that looked relatively like a constellation pattern set around a round grid set upon a background of black and blue. He would never tell her those secrets of his; it was more fun that way.

"And it has." She muttered under her breath, in regard to that there has indeed been worse landings with the TARDIS.

They smiled at one another again, and marched toward the blue wooden doors. Rose was first to lead the way, always excited to see the new world on which they landed. The Doctor was barely even a step behind her when he started his usual rant about said planet.

"Rose Tyler, I give you the planet of Hawaii. Complete with tropical breezes, palm trees, and banan--" He stopped short of his sentence before plowing into Rose's backside. He had barely enough time to close the TARDIS doors behind him, let alone stop in time.

When he looked up, Rose already had both hands raised in the air. She audibly gulped. The Doctor glanced up, past her shoulder to the gathering crowd of locals. Only they weren't there to greet the two travelers with necklaces made of woven flowers or kisses to the cheek. The only things kissing their cheeks were the business end of several spears.

"Hello!" The Doctor exclaimed too cheerfully, "Well, judging by the temperature and the craftsmanship of these spears, I think I may have made a slight error." He sheepishly spoke through gritting teeth and a smile to match.

"You think?" Rose whispered harshly over her shoulder.

A small girl wiggled into view from between the hips of the guards. The dazzling blue eyes set into the dark skin gleamed up at the two strangers. She instantly looked at the Doctor, and gave his pin-striped suit a cautious once over, stopping at his clean pant legs, brown coat and trainers.

"Hello! Oh, I've said that already, haven't I? All the same, hello, I'm the Doctor! And this is Rose."


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor dipped under Roses left raised arm to stand in front of her, removing his own from his pockets as to show he was unarmed. He swept an unfaltering grin at each of the spear heads and their wielders. It wasn't until the Doctor followed one spear poll, and then down some distance again with a glance that he noticed the small child. She looked to be no more than ten-years-old. Rose had already begun to peek her head around the Doctors shoulder, when a spear came snuggly close to her temple.

'Humans!' the Doctor exclaimed, boisterously to the crowd. 'Well, when I say Human, what I really mean is Human-ish. Semi-Human?' he finished off suddenly, lolling his head to the back toward Rose standing behind him to make his point.

Rose went to fix the back of the Doctors head with a dubious expression until she really took the time to examine each 'human'. They all seemed very human; a pair of everything, arms, legs, eyes, and so on. But so did the Doctor and he was very much not human. These people had several features that hadn't managed to vary too much between them. All of them were dark skinned; deeply tanned. They all had silver or white hair, no matter the age; though the styles altered from individual to individual. But the one thing that Rose had noticed almost instantly, was that they all had blue eyes; bright blue eyes that could almost be mistaken for glistening pools of water. Those intense hues eerily sat amongst the exotic color of their skin. Rose had never seen humans like this, but then again, Rose had never seen a lot of the things the Doctor showed her.

'Are you sure…?' Rose asked, no longer finding the need to stifle her curiosity.

'Yep! Quite sure. Very sure, in fact,' the Doctor crisply popped the 'P'. 'Rose, just because something doesn't look Human, does not designate them as non-Humans. Just look at them! See what billions of years of fantastic evolution and relocation does to you lot? It's brilliant!' The Doctor bellowed excitedly, almost hopping on the balls of his feet.

'What is all this, then?' squawked a man's voice from behind the wall of warriors.

A heavy set figure pushed and shouldered his way to the front line of the commotion, if there was any. The Doctor, who had already lowered his arms to his sides, teetered back and forth, from the ball of his feet to his heel, beaming expectantly up at the man. The bulbous sir was a hefty one; standing to about a foot taller than the Doctor, and nearly five times that of the Doctors girth. His slick hair was pulled back tightly into a short, and thinning, ponytail at the base of his head. He lumbered precariously on small feet. His once white shirt, now stained with who-knew-what, was stuffed haphazardly into tanned-leather hide workers trousers, splashed with oil and mud. It was enough to make Rose shrink back behind the Doctor's thin frame of a body for some moderate protection.

'Who are you?' the man asked with a booming voice.

'The Doctor,' the Doctor answered exasperated, as if the man should have knew that by now or had thought the man really could have made it in time to experience the first introduction. No sense in wasting time with another fabulous introduction if the man did not have the courtesy to be punctual, the Doctor thought.

The man's eyes were shrunken into the skin of his face, making them tiny in comparison amongst his other larger features; but they seem to shrink more so when he narrowed his gaze. Decidedly, he turned from the Doctor and Rose, diverting his attentions to the small child.

'Is this the man you saw, Aloucia?' came the booming voice; though Rose was glad she didn't have to see the perturbing features to match what was said.

The little girl was startled, hopping backward a step or two. She meekly nodded her head, finally lowering her head to face the ground. She apparently found something fascinating about her feet as she glanced down and toed a small pebble with her foot; but Rose knew that most children did that when they were anxious or guilty. And this poor child looked nervous. Wait… did she just say she saw the Doctor?

The Doctor had already stepped up in a flurry at the insinuated accusation, one eyebrow arched into the fringe of his disheveled hair, 'What?'

'You heard her. Get them to the cell.'

The Doctor and Rose were, for lack of a better term, herded toward their destination; the speared ends of the weapons poking and prodding into their backs. At the bottom of the hill lay the small village, set prone against the base of a massive rock formation that ended in a cliff. The village was an assortment of huts and houses, encircled with a halo of grey smoke emanating from a central bon-fire. The Doctor was more than happy to saunter down the hill at his own pace, regardless of what plans the warriors otherwise had.

Once they arrived, they were ushered into a sturdy building toward the north side of the small village. Inside, three 'cells' were divided by walls made of large white stone and mortar. Crudely fashioned iron bars lined the only way in and out from each one. Before being shoved past the bars and into their holding cell, both Rose and the Doctor were given a hardly thorough inspection. The only personal items that were confiscated were the Doctors' sonic screwdriver and Roses' cell phone; both of which were promptly placed on an old desk in the far corner. The desk was shrouded in shadows, save for one corner of the cherry furnished surface as daylight poured in from a square window cut out of the stone wall high above. They both sat quietly on the provided benches inside their cell facing one another while the cell doors slammed shut behind them.

Their captors retreated from the building without so much as a mumble. The Doctor fidgeted slightly before bouncing to his feet again to conduct a further investigation of their surroundings. He pulled once, twice, three times on the rickety old rusted bars of their confinement to test durability, then stepped onto Roses' bench, just next to her, and tapped the wall with his knuckles. His hands splayed curiously across the firm stones holding together their cell.

'What did you do?' came Roses voice from the below him, punching through the dusty air in waves of echoes.

'Eh?' the Doctor glanced down to stare indignantly at his companion, his brows folded together.

'You, Doctor! What did you do? You've been here before, haven't you?' She jabbed him in the stomach, forcing him to unceremoniously flop down off her bench and onto his own again.

'I didn't _do _anything, Rose. I was with you the whole time!'

Usually that excuse was rightly reserved for something as innocent as accidently killing your friends' goldfish, or perhaps an attempt at wriggling out of a shoplifting charge when an officer asks you where you were. Rose could hardly keep the chuckle from bubbling out of her throat when the Doctor pulled out his lower lip in a mock pout.

'Right. But that girl said…' Rose started, but was cut short when the Doctor blew a resigned breath past his closed lips.

'Oh, right, the girl,' the Doctor slouched forward and clasped his hands together; his elbows perched on his knees. His eyes meandered within the limits of the cell, and then glanced past the cell bars. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before continuing distantly, 'Never seen her in my life. Have I, little one?'

Rose soon realized that the Doctor was no longer talking to her. She traced the Doctor's gaze and happened upon the small child from before. The small girl was standing on the opposite side of the cell bars, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, then, tell me. Who are you?" continued the Doctor when the child showed no signs of an obvious contribution to the conversation, other than a simple shrug. "Well, other than someone who goes around condemning complete and total strangers of doing… What was it we've done wrong, anyhow? Regardless! It's one thing to go blustering in, knowing full well where trouble is, it's another thing entirely when I've done nothing yet to issue it!" the Doctor rushed out, bewildered, in a single breath of oxygen, describing his bafflement.

The young girl on the opposite side of the jail cell bars took a single step backward, as if she was being reprimanded. But what the girl mistook for discipline, Rose saw as perplexity on the Doctor's part, a need to understand. The Doctor wasn't making this any better for either party involved. Before the girl could turn tail and run, Rose cleared her throat and kept the Doctor's speech from going much further.

"You're the definition of trouble, Doctor," Rose muttered before continuing, her statement coupled with a sidelong glance in his direction. "What he means is, 'Nice to meet you'. I'm Rose Tyler, and this is the Doctor. He's harmless." Rose used the smile that was reserved for the children that they encountered, hoping more than anything that it was enough to gain back just a small portion of the lost trust. It was a sweet smile, one that reassured children that everything would be alright. The Doctor didn't understand the tactic, but it worked most of the time.

The child uneasily shifted her weight from one foot to another, her small fists clutching the front of her long tanned and tattered shirt. The bright blue eyes that were set amongst the dark skin of her face flitted from the Doctor to Rose. Just when Rose thought that she was about to run, the little girl shifted once more and muttered under her breath.

"I'm Aloucia," she uttered. It was barely above a whisper, but still echoed off the walls of the cold, dark room.

Judging by her stance, Aloucia hadn't dropped her guard very much at all. Every so often her mouth would open and then close again as words hung unsaid in the air.

"What's wrong, Aloucia?" Rose spoke softly to her, inching closer to the bars while still seated on her bench. "Whatever it is, we can help." She gestured between herself and the Doctor with an index finger.

Aloucia barely nodded before the Doctor lowered himself to the floor. He sat back on his haunches and clasped two sturdy bars in his fists. The Doctor's gaze softened and his lips quirked up on both edges into a gentle smile. He'd remained on the sidelines of this conversation, but taking note of the child's desperation it was dire and needed to be addressed.

"Tell me what's happened, Aloucia. We can help you if you tell us," he said gently, though there was a subtle hint of urgent concern, the sound that was always there when something was not quite right.

She inched an apprehensive step backward and glanced quickly at Rose. Rose affirmed the Doctor's intentions with a confident nod and another dazzling smile. Aloucia spun her head to the door, the long locks of silver hair following suit. She craned her neck to see out of the crack in the door that she left open only ajar. When she was sure enough that it was safe to converse with the captives and not get caught herself, she turned her attention back to the two people in the cell.

She was met with two returning expectant gazes. Aloucia rushed to the bars and sat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of where the Doctor was crouched. Rose and the Doctor could finally get a good look at their visitor.

She was indeed like the other locals; dark skin, icy blue eyes, long silver hair. While the fundamental shared characteristics were still the same, she was extremely thin and covered head to toe in dirt. Smudges of mud streaked her cheeks. It made Rose break out in a grin, the thought of a little girl who played and ran with the boys just as well as the rest of them. Aloucia had small braids in her hair that weaved through the rest of the unbraided hair. Her clothes were stained and tattered, made of leather hides and some grey furs. Small fingers clung to the bars, just under the Doctors' larger hands.

"It just started two weeks ago. People; friends, relatives, all being snatched away into the night if they've not made it in by nightfall!" she exclaimed, no longer holding back the words that everyone else around her were fearful of voicing. Now that her concerns had a voice, it was a dam breaking and the words and emotions flooded away with it. Aloucia was trembling.

"Snatched. What do you mean, 'snatched'?" the Doctor questioned, his eyebrow arching into the fringe of his hairline.

"They're being stolen!" Aloucia clarified. "Right off the streets."

"By who?" Rose asked, casting a glance to the Doctor, who in turn glanced at her. "Who is stealing people?"

Aloucia was getting frustrated. What was desperation and fear was now anger and hurt, a sense of loss for the people already taken away. "I… I don't know! They take the faces of other people. Faces we know, and then…" she looked directly at the Doctor, "Ones we don't."

"People that look like people, but aren't really people," the Doctor concluded simply. "So, if you think I've…" he paused a moment, a spark of genius hitting him, alighting his brown eyes. "No, you don't. You don't think it's me. Clever, you. It was someone else who has…" he pulled a hand down his face, releasing the bars to stand to full height again. The Doctor paced the small cubicle-sized cell, shoving his hands in his already unruly hair. "Oh! It's completely at random! Otherwise, no one would be able to copy a face like mine. Just look at it. Nice, eh? Rose!" She jumped at the sound of her name echoing off the walls, having not paid much attention to the Doctors' half devised thoughts and theories. "You'd know it best as a random number generator!"

"Yeah, and?" Rose muttered, eliciting a look from the Doctor as if she'd just dribbled all over her shirt.

"Don't you see? We've never visited this place, and I've changed. For someone to borrow my looks, and have 'me' snatch people off the streets, they'd have no idea who I am. Therefore, it's a random series of features and characteristics."

"Fine, but what about the people who she does know? They've borrowed their 'features and characteristics' too." Rose added helpfully.

"Well, why use a random number generator when the back of a fortune cookie already supplies a number for you? Just use what you have! What ever gets the job done! But then there is the matter of 'who'. Who uses faces of people you know? Who uses a double or a counterpart to…" he paused again, his eyes settling on the child as if she is some source of inspiration. "Doppelganger."

"A what?" Rose and Aloucia ask in stereo unison.

"A Doppelganger. Usually considered 'ghosts'. They are doubles, copies, and replicas of the living human, generally get their thrills and chills off of haunting, especially the original counterpart. From the sounds of it, Aloucia, they're not ghosts at all. Not when they're hopping away with your friends. Well, when I say hopping…"

"Doctor," Rose warned giving a fleeting glance to the confused child still seated on the ground outside the bars.

"Oh, right. They're not ghosts, Rose. They are living flesh, or we can only assume." The Doctor scratches at the side of his neck, the heel of his palm pressed against his collarbone. "But that takes an incredible amount of energy to supply bodies with that mentality, let alone random faces."

The Doctor was on a roll. He could feel it. His brain was working overtime, casting aside and conjuring new theories and ideas, faster than his lips could move. His thoughts were scattered a short moment later when a shrill scream was issued from outside. While Rose and Aloucia had lost time, and only recently becoming full aware of the moonlight pouring in from the small windows, the Doctor had simply forgot what happens at night.

"Aloucia! If we're to help, I need your help in return. My coat, there, has a…" calling it a sonic screwdriver might have some lasting damage to the time lines on this planet, or worse, confuse the poor child. "A… pen," he spat out lamely. "The left pocket, next to the wind-up mouse and bubble solution." The Doctor sniffed and looked briefly at Rose, who was giving him that look.

While Rose and the Doctor were having a short discussion as to the contents of his jacket pockets, Aloucia gave up the search and felt around the darkness, following the wood of the desk. When she came around to the front of the desk, she lowered her exploring hands to a knob and pulled the drawer out. Inside was a small skeleton key, filed down roughly to fit the locks of each cell door.

With key in hand, she proudly presented it to the Doctor. Upon taking it, he muttered, "Just as good as a sonic screwdriver, I guess."

He reached his arm through the bars and unlocked the cell door. With a high pitched creak, it swung opened. Like a madman, he dashed out the door, taking up his brown jacket into the crook of his arm on the way out into the night air. Rose hurried Aloucia along, following the Doctor before he disappeared from view.

Outside, the Doctor expected chaos and pandemonium at best, but was almost disappointed when there was no one in sight. Not even a single soul was outside on the streets. The fires were stoked; the lights were dimmed in houses. Worse yet, he hadn't had the chance to hear from which direction the scream came from. No passersby to ask, not even a witness.

By the time Rose and Aloucia caught up with the Doctor, he was already pulling on his coat over his arms and adjusting the collar, but his gaze was distantly searching.

"Who screamed?" Rose asked as she placed her hands on the small child's shoulders for comfort.

"Good question. I don't know," the Doctor murmured in crestfallen wonder. The Doctor knelt down on one knee in front of Aloucia, and asked urgently, "Have you ever seen where they take them? Where the Doppelgangers go?"

"That way, to the mansion, I guess," Aloucia whispered, as if it was a best kept secret pried from her.

"And where's that then? How far?"

"To the south. It's on the peninsula. It's not far from here, maybe a thirty minute walk. Through the canyon." She pointed in the general direction of the mansion.

"How do you know that? You've been there?" the Doctor tipped his head to the side, and continued to eye the child incredulously.

"Hm," she shrugged. "Dad use to do business there with the family, but they left after tough times. No one's lived there for years until recently. Friends told me they've seen things in the windows, but I'm too afraid to go."

"Well, whatever's taken up residence at the manor, something tells me that they're not taking locals up there for tea," He beamed his usual mega-watt grin at Rose. "Well, Rose, care to go visit the neighbors?" No response from his companion. "Rose?" He tried again.

Again, she said nothing but just stared past the Doctor's shoulder. He traced her fear frozen gaze until he had to turn around. Behind him stood a tall figure, clad in brown pinstripes and brown coat matching his own. His face was shrouded in shadows, but the Doctor could only guess. The still figure was the Doctor's own doppelganger, his copy, and duplicate. The Doctor swallowed uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he slipped a hand into his left coat pocket. There was only one thing at that moment that came to mind to say.

"Oh."


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh."

"Doctor, is that what I think it is?" Rose breathed out, her own voice muffled to her ears amongst the steady thundering of her heart.

"Yes, that may very well be," the Doctor's voice lowered several octaves. He straightened his posture, and lifted his chin, addressing the doppelganger with a serious expression. "Right then, where are you from? Eh? More importantly, what do you want with these villagers?"

The only response from his double was a clenching and unclenching of the fists at its sides. Its head had seemingly slunk forward; the chin resting against the right clavicle, though the familiar features of the freckled face was still somewhat shrouded by shadows. The Doctor watched the thing with intense eyes, his brows furrowing together to form a crease between them. The Doctor was clever enough to know that the point in which his doppelgangers' muscles visibly tightened and tensed under the layers of pinstripes and brown was as good a time as any to do only one thing.

"Run," the Doctor called over his shoulder to Rose and Aloucia while his own Converse clad feet guided the rest of him to a hasty retreat. At the same moment in time, the Doctor removed his fist from his left hand coat pocket, with his sonic screwdriver clasped tightly in his hand.

Rose hauled Aloucia by the shoulders to a direction away from the doppelganger. Rose instinctively took Aloucia by the hand, helping her along while the child managed to sink her toes into the soft earth for better footing. The two of them took off running deeper into the center of the village without as much as a peek back.

The Doctor had the presence of mind to look back at the copy just as it sprang into action. The legs made a very animated, yet very resolute progress toward him. In its gangled dash after the Doctor, the doppelgangers' clothing seemed very well-mannered for all the movement involved. While the Doctors own brown overcoat flailed against the wind and the back of the Doctors' legs, the doppelgangers' coat twitched minutely in time to its graceless sprint. The Doctor snapped his head back round again to analyze any way of escape.

His rationalizing was cut off abruptly when something strong clutched the back of his collar. The action halted any and all forward movement, causing the Doctors' feet to propel out from under him. His face twisted into something of pain and surprise. The world tipped, the ground gave away, and the diamond stars twinkling in the nights' sky above came into full view. This all was shortly accompanied by a painful impact against his back when gravity's relentless force compelled him to collide into the damp ground. The Doctor voiced his affliction with a grunt, forced out with the rest of the air from his lungs.

The world spun on its axis a little more than usual in unnatural, topsy-turvy movements and laying there on the flat of his back felt much longer than the calculated 1.3 seconds. When the blood stopped rushing to his head and he gained enough composure to focus his eyes, he saw that a rogue fist was sweeping down toward his face.

In a moment of clarity, the Doctor rolled to the left just in time for the hand to strike the ground. With the force of the impact, the doppelgangers' hand deformed and twisted into a form that scarcely resembled a hand at all. The wound was a lusterless brownish-grey color. The doppelganger pulled back, standing to its full stature while the stumped limb twitched and lazily squirmed as fibers and fragments molded back together again to a shapely hand. From his position on his stomach, he watched tentatively as the being looming over him reformed its hand.

"Ah, handy. We have one thing in common," mumbled the Doctor before scrabbling up to his feet again.

The doppelganger made for the Doctor again with a backward swing with its arm, to which the Doctor easily ducked under the assault. He readily aimed the sonic device still held fast in his grip and turned it on while the doppelganger had lost its balance enough to start stumbling back. The small pen-sized mechanism buzzed and hummed its high-pitched whine and the light at the end beamed brightly a shade of blue.

In the sonic screwdrivers' complex waves of sound, the Doctor deciphered the information. He stared at the being a moment longer than intended with a new sense of understanding. The sonic screwdriver was flicked off and was shoved back into a pocket while the Doctor made a mad dash for the nearest bon fire left burning. It didn't take long for the doppelganger to gain stability of its body and charge after the Doctor.

The Doctor protected himself by bounding to the opposite side of the bon fire centered between four small huts. He armed himself with a simple branch protruding from the hungry flames. He smiled pleasantly when the crude movements of the replica slowed, but not stopping in time before crunching through the flames, kicking up embers. Halfway through the heat, its movements stiffened and strained as the affected areas on its legs and hands burned to a dull grey color. Too fast was the doppelganger passing through the flames though; not sustaining much injury to hinder it or to dry out, nor was the fire nearly hot enough. But it got the message, loud and clear, and before proceeding on to the Doctor again, it stopped and stared.

The orange from the fires soaked the doubles' face with light that filtered across the familiar features. The Doctors' smile had faded, mirroring the stern expression plastered on the others' face. The Doctor waited for another assault, but was happily mistaken when his doppelganger turned away and fled into the darkness of the encampment without a sound. The Doctor exhaled his waiting breath. Leaving the makeshift torch behind, he set off to find Rose and Aloucia.

Rose skidded to a stop after dipping between huts and small buildings, settling for cover behind three pyramid-stacked crates. She pulled Aloucia alongside her, and both heaved in hefty portions of the frigid night air into their lungs. Rose steadied her breathing enough to hear beyond the sound of her gasps. The night was silent, even as the wind blew against the side of the jagged cliff surface and swooped into the valley below.

She pulled back blonde locks of hair from her face. Mustering up her courage, she leant forward to take a peek around the wooden surface of the crates. Mirrored in time with her movements, she was met with two inquisitive brown eyes. Startled, Rose jumped up to her feet and so did the owner of the two large eyes. The Doctor grinned wide at her puzzled and stressed expression. He perched an elbow on top of the crate to lean against it, crossing his ankles. Rose was about to be overjoyed and thrilled until she remembered the Doctor had a duplicate.

"That's you, isn't it?" Rose asked, leveling her voice to a warning.

The Doctor's grin just grew wider still, proud of his accomplishments and knowledge from back at the bon fire site. "As much me as I'll ever be."

Rose let out a sigh, as if she'd been holding it locked inside her chest all evening.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor pushed off and away from the crates of which he was leaning on. He gave Rose a look of promise that he'd explain everything once they were safely inside, followed up closely with a wide grin. He sidestepped Rose to come to Aloucia, who was still huddled on the ground in the shadow of the shipping crates. Rose wasn't sure Aloucia could look much smaller there, with her knees to her chest. The Doctor strode to Aloucia's other side, putting her between Rose and him. He knelt down and regarded the child with patience.

"You said you had a father," he raised both eyebrows and pointed to the rest of the town using a forward nudge of his head.

"And a mother," she added. The girl wasn't getting his implied drift, so he tried again.

"Yes, but where? Might be better if we have a word," said the Doctor. There went his patience, flown out the proverbial window.

"Oh, yeah, I'll show you."

Aloucia shakily rose to her feet, dusting off her bum and knees before starting off toward home. The Doctor, however, was already on the way. Which way was another question entirely. Aloucia and Rose stopped when they discovered the Doctor wasn't with them. They turned around. While they were headed right, the Doctor wandered away to the left. Aloucia cleared her throat.

The Doctor looked back at the source of the cough, turned about on his heel and walked back toward them. He lifted his chin, wearing an expression that said in unfaltering confidence that he had every intention of turning left. He saw something interesting, yes, that's it. Aloucia just giggled at him, and Rose nudged his arm with her elbow.

After a short distance, and not too many directional issues later, they arrived at Aloucia's home. The small girl stopped at the barrier of the brown wooden door. Scuff marks etched in the flat surface of the stone that was meant to be a stoop suggested general wear-and-tear. The smell of food cooking wafted out through the edges of the door, a strange mixture of ingredients Rose wasn't familiar with.

Aloucia pulled a chain necklace, which was draped around her thin neck, from her shirt. Dangling admiringly from the end of the chain was a small silver key, presumably to the door. Just as she was about to slip it into the lock, the door flung open, thankfully inward. The force behind the doors' sudden jolt was caused by the man standing beyond the threshold. Though, it wasn't the same man as the one who had thrown them in the cells once they first arrived. The Doctor was quick to point this out, but did not get far enough as to verbally say so, only going so far as to say 'Ah'.

The man standing before them was average height for a man, coincidentally the same height as the Doctor. His overall physique was burly. The navy blue tunic did nothing to conceal the size of the man's stomach. The tunic was tied at the waist with a gold sash, the extra length of material hung from the knot at his left side. Billowing black trousers were laced with drawstrings. The ensemble was completed with a pair of black leather boots, to which the trousers were tucked into. His beard was neatly trimmed, and from what the Doctor could see, was streaked with ginger highlights. Regardless of all the prim and proper care he had taken of himself, the man looked worn and tired.

"It's you!" the man bellowed angrily, about to take a step toward the Doctor.

"Daddy, it's not who you think it is! They're here to help!" Aloucia shifted her position in front of the Doctor and Rose, flailing her hands at her father for him to stop.

Simultaneously, the Doctor and Rose smiled brightly at the man, cheerfully saying, "Hi."

The man eyed them suspiciously, but still courteously welcomed them in at Aloucia's request.

Once inside, Rose made herself comfortable. She settled on the table poised in the center of the moderately large single room home. The table looked more like a picnic table from earth than any regular dining table. Rose briefly watched the Doctor as he started to cross the room from one interesting item to another.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" came Aloucia's small voice, breaking apart the silence.

It was polite to ask, and since her father showed no interest in being hospitable, Aloucia figured she would instead. The Doctor declined politely. After Rose waited for his response, she too shook her head. Aloucia went to her father then, who was helping himself to the food cooking in an iron brazier settled in the coals and ash of the fireplace. Rose smiled as the girl was careful not to embellish the story of the Doctor and his double.

While Aloucia expressed her story, the Doctor wandered around the room. The room was rectangle for the most part, the walls puzzle-pieced together with stones excavated from the massive precipice outside. The only thing jutting out from one wall was the fireplace directly across from the door of which they came through. Wooden beams of scaffolding weaved above their heads, meeting at the four corners of the home and stretching downward into the ground below. A single twin bed huddled close to the far wall from the Doctor. Wicker baskets and wooden barrels rested in three of the four corners. Shelves were fixed to the walls, each carrying at least three or four white wax candles and small trinkets, vials, vases, and pitchers. The floor was covered by an area rug, newly woven.

The home was certainly better than some of the others he had seen in passing. But all of them, even this one, looked, well, new. The Doctor pulled out his black-rimmed spectacles from his suit pocket and put them on. Against the same wall as the bed was a small cedar desk with papers strewn across it. He was dimly aware of Aloucia's voice still babbling on, but paid no mind to it. He was more interested in the diagrams and lists on the desk. He thumbed through the documents, before raising his curious gaze to the hand-drawn map. He tipped closer to the map, following the bold lines of the land masses. Thinner lines indicated shipping routes to different continents. The smudged lines indicated the westerly wind direction across the oceans. The shipping routes leading to a specific continent had been previously erased, though remnants of graphite still lingered on the yellowed poster.

"What happened here, Mister… eh, sorry, what did you say your name was?" the Doctor jabbed his index finger at the map displayed on the wall, specifically the erased marks.

Aloucia's voice had stuttered to a stop. All three people, Aloucia, Aloucia's father and Rose, all turned to look at the Doctor.

The burly man stood from his seat at the table. "I didn't," he said gruffly.

The Doctor still looked at the man expectantly, wanting answers for both questions. He tipped his head down, the glasses falling down the bridge of his nose only partially. The man walked over to where the Doctor was standing, and looked at where the Doctors' finger was still pointed at it.

"Ah," the man began. "Shipping routes to the mainland. Toraon. We stopped all outgoing shipments to Toraon after the war."

"War? What war?" the Doctor asked, swallowing down any signs of apprehension of the subject matter.

"The Invasion of Azirade. Hmph, slaughter was more like it," said Aloucia's father, mournfully. After a moment's pause to examine the Doctor's still expectant expression, he continued. "That there, that's Azirade. The continent we live on. That one there is Toraon, the ones who attacked."

The Doctors' head tipped backward, his jaw slack and fallen to form a silent 'oh' of realization. By this time, Rose was standing just behind the two men, peering over their shoulders at the indicated map.

"A slaughter? But we didn't see anything on the way here. No rubble, no bod…" Rose stopped herself short, careful to not open old wounds.

"We wouldn't have. The Invasion of Azirade ended five-years ago, am I right? Bodies would have been respectfully buried by now," the Doctor glanced over the rim of his glasses to the older gentleman.

"Not only that, but it took place closer to the shoreline. Most of the north coast had been demolished. Only surviving settlement anywhere near there would be the Port. Sure, there's other civilizations remaining further inland, but they claimed to be 'peaceful' or neutral. They ignored our plead for help when they attacked," the elder man seemed to be going on his own tirade, years of frustration bubbling to the surface. After he visibly collected himself, took a breath, he finished with, "I'm Rorin."

"Rorin, I'm the Doctor. This is Rose," the Doctor exchanged pleasantries, informally. His attention was still fused to the map. "You all would be…" he gestured a pointed finger to the rest of the encampment, "what exactly?"

"Survivors," Rorin finished for the Doctor. "The few of us here survived the invasion. By either getting wounded to win a free way out of the front lines, or by a cowards way. Most of us ran." Rorin glanced down shamefully.

"Running. Running is good. Good for the heart," the Doctor approved. "Though, that does explain a lot about why these huts and homes look so new. Very new. Foundations' hardly settled yet."

"Indeed," Rorin straightened his posture, depositing his thumbs into the folds of his gold sash.

"Why the copies though? I mean, they aren't directly related to the Invasion," Rose questioned. Then receiving no replies right away, she added a little more quietly, "Are they?"

"No, not really," the Doctor smiled, earning a roll of the eyes from Rose.

"Those only just started recently. Two weeks, in fact. We've gotten use to it."

"You feel safer to just hide away, rather than do anything about it," Rose dipped her head lower, disapprovingly, boring a glare into Rorins' blue eyes. It teased the borders of being a question and a statement.

"It's safer to do that than risk our lives!" Rorin spat out defensively.

"People are being taken!"

The Doctor just looked between the two while they exchanged glares. One eyebrow rose above the rim of his glasses, and he waited until the dispute quieted to a simmer. The Doctor scratched at his left sideburn to reach further and run a hand through his unruly hair. "Anyway," the Doctor said slowly. "I did find out one detail that puts us to an advantage." He waited until both pairs of eyes were on him, one set brown, the other blue, "The bodies of the doppelgangers cannot withstand heat. Well, much heat. I imagine walking on hot sand wouldn't do them too much harm. But, given enough heat, and I mean loads of it, they simply become brittle. They have the same traits with that of clay." The Doctor beamed. "They wouldn't be able to move a muscle. I suppose they wouldn't anyway, considering they don't have muscles."

Rorin considered this for a moment, and then looked to the map again, "It's likely that Aloucia told you where they head to?"

The Doctor tipped his head to either side, muttering a lilting tune that meant he was juggling possible answers. "A bit," he settled.

Rorin gestured to the map, pointing to a small peninsula hanging precariously to the continents mainland. The peninsula was just south of their current location.

"That's the mansion. That, from what the villagers can tell, is where the 'doppelgangers' are coming from. We had scouts tail them about a week back and it's where they were led," Rorin supplied, but stood back away from the door as if already making his decision not to lead them there. "Take that map if you believe it will be beneficial."

The night drew on well into the early reaches of the morning. Aloucia was fast asleep in the center of the single twin bed that occupied the corner furthest from the only window. With her were her mother and father, tucked under the thick duvet. The Doctor and Rose were welcomed to stay if they had nowhere else to go for the night. The Doctor wasted no hesitation to accept on Roses' behalf, considering the TARDIS was further than he would have liked to walk this late at night – with the doppelgangers on the loose and all – and he had said as much to Rose before she dozed off as well.

The Doctor watched Rose sleep on the woven rug, curled under a thin sheet and his brown overcoat. He'd watched her before, sleeping on the TARDIS jump seat, though she seemed much more comfortable all those times. There on the floor, however, she struggled to grasp a good nights' rest. Occasionally, she would use her forearm as a pillow. Then when that got too painful for the joint in her shoulder, she'd use the other arm or the floor itself.

The Doctor turned his attention to the window. He seated himself on a barrel close the window, looking out into the night. Two moons shone brightly despite the partial cloud cover. He clasped his hands together in his lap and contemplated the events that unraveled since they arrived. His mind dodged to the doppelgangers and how the one looked identical to himself. His lips twisted into a frown, understanding that the reason he gave Rose and Aloucia for the 'look-alike' just didn't seem to add up. Had he been here before, on his own? Doubtful since he's been with Rose. Would someone have recognized him on another planet entirely, and used his likeness instead? Perhaps, but still unlikely. So many questions bounced around the Doctor's head, leaving him stirred and restless, fidgeting in his seat next to the window.

The next morning, Rose awoke with a crick in her neck and sore limbs. She extracted herself from the sheet and the Doctors' coat. Rubbing her eyes, Rose walked out the front door to gravel road with the Doctor's coat in the crook of her arm. The Doctor was already waiting outside for her, munching on a small bread bun. He was looking intently down the wide path leading into the center of town. When he turned his head to look the other direction, he spotted Rose on the opposite side of the road. He dusted the bread crumbs from his suit jacket and madly grinned at her.

They met halfway, in the center of the gravel road. The Doctor pulled out the map from under his arm. The map was rolled like a scroll now and gingerly placed into one of the Doctors many endless pockets. Rose handed him his jacket, and they strolled down the path together – not south, like the map indicated, but toward the center of town.

"Fancy a chat with the locals?" the Doctor grinned.

"'Course," Rose caught the infectious grin.

They both stopped at every tent and merchant within two rows of the main street. The crisp morning air was scented with the smells of cooked meat, smoke, and all-together outdoorsy. Merchants bellowed, telling every one of their fresh goods. The Doctor occasionally stopped and tasted the products, dipping his finger into jars and mentally criticizing each one.

The Doctor steered Rose toward a tent or two, flashing a thin wallet with his psychic paper at the merchant. They would each in turn ask various questions, ranging from weather to the happenings late at night for the past two weeks. Each person they encountered seemed less inclined to discuss the matters.

It wasn't until they came to a larger brown tent that they started to get somewhere with their investigation. The flaps that typically were held closed were drawn back with crimson rope and tassels. The sound of shuffling papers and the thud of books coming from inside was almost lost to the overpowering sound of people yelling and discussing behind them. The Doctor guided Rose inside with a gesture of the hand and he too ducked under the drawn flaps of the door behind her. Before looking around, the Doctor could smell books. Loads of books. Inside resembled a library. Not a library that the Doctor was use to, but a library nonetheless. Three wooden shelves guarded each slightly sagged wall, each shelf packed to the brim with books. So many books, in fact, that they were being placed in high stacks on the floor. Candles lined the surfaces not overrun with flammable paper. Open barrels burst with scrolls littered all possible walking space beyond the small counter area. Parchments, documents, charts and letters were all displayed in piles on the counter. A glass cabinet to their immediate left held precious jewels and gems from the surrounding areas. Movement stirred behind the counter, further in the tent. Rose looked on the counter for a bell, but found none. Just as she was thinking of getting the attention of the person inside, a young manly voice called out to them both.

"Be with you in a moment," said the voice, though it sounded slightly winded and labored.

Sure enough, a moment later and they were greeted with a handshake to them both and two brilliant blue eyes. He struggled to pull three to four large old tomes onto the counter space. The man looked to be about the age of twenty-five, certainly no older. His cheekbones were perched high above the hollow cheeks themselves. His youthful features settled into a calm smirk that closely reminded Rose of the Doctor's own. His silver hair, however, was long and pulled back into a long braid that played against his spine with each movement. Strands of hair had slipped free of the braid and were parted to cup his chiseled jaw. A well-structured neck disappeared into the collar of a crimson robe with black trim. The man quietly regarded them both for a moment before speaking.

"I'm Zendraxis K'Aeld, the towns Sage. This is my twin sister, Seirrah," Zendraxis gestured to the woman sitting quietly behind him on a stack of old books.

"Thought Sages were supposed to be older," the Doctor asked seriously, a frown down turning his whole face. He would have caught his tongue, but the words already hung loosely in the air. No point in correcting my rudeness, now, the Doctor thought to himself.

Rose shot the Doctor an obvious look that intended to scorn him. It didn't work. Without so much as a flinch or hesitation, Zendraxis' smirk grew just a fraction wider.

"In truth we are. Not many know the trade very well, and those who did are gone now," Zendraxis stated plainly. "I do my best here."

Rose was lost in this conversation, or lack thereof. "What exactly is a Sage? I mean, other than a profoundly wise person with experience, but you lot make it sound like a job."

"A Sage is…" the Doctor started, but was interrupted.

"…Is a Scholar, by definition. We spend time creating thaumaturgy scrolls for the local Alchemists, star charts, and maps to document recent changes in land formations. Essentially, we are scientists."

The Doctor snickered loudly, before apologizing solemnly and clearing his throat to hide the grin that was desperately trying to break free. He raised a hand to his face and scratched at the nonexistent itch in the corner of his right eye.

"And what of you, Sir. You look like a man who has travelled quite a bit, if I'm to be honest."

"Ooh, just passing through. No need to worry about us. I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you," the Doctor rambled quickly, motioning to the large tomes. "You document everything, do you? You really wouldn't happen to have records from the past two weeks, would you?"

"Doctor. Of course I do. I can only assume you're speaking of the incidents with the doppelgangers, correct? Let me see where I put those…" Zendraxis headed off to one of the other bookshelves, running his slender fingers along the spines of each book with the precision of a true bookkeeper.

He had left the pair under the scrutiny of the woman who was named Seirrah. Most of her face was disguised in shadows, except of course the two blue hues. From what Rose could tell, Seirrah's arms were crossed, as was her legs. She wore black and grey leathers for pants and long-sleeved top that conformed to the curves of her body. Around her waist was a utility belt with two shining daggers at her hips and an assortment of vials. Poisons, the Doctor concluded. A hood was attached to the collar of her top, but remained hanging along her back and not over her head as it was intended to do.

The Doctor leaned forward and dipped his head close to Roses' ear. "Probably one of the 'scouts' Rorin told us about," he whispered. Rose nodded in agreement, albeit conspiratorially.

Zendraxis appeared a short while later with a book; about the size of a travel guide that Rose was use to back home. He handed it to the Doctor, accompanied with a charming grin to Rose. The Doctor started out the archway of canvas, and headed south toward their next destination. Rose remained in the tent for just a moment longer, long enough to have been pulled by the arm and moved closer to the edge of the counter. Zendraxis took her hand in his and pressed a light kiss on the back of her hand, causing Rose to blush.

"What was your name?"

She stammered for a coherent sentence, "Rose. And don't worry about him, he's always like that."

"How unfortunate," Zendraxis spoke through a smirk.

"I'd… better go after him. 'Case he gets into trouble." Rose awkwardly walked backwards, nearly toppling two stacks of books on her way out the door, waving a farewell to the handsome Sage.

Once she disappeared into the throngs of people outside, he heaved a heavy sigh, forcing out the name 'Rose' on a whisper. He turned to his twin sibling, indifferently glancing down at the now empty seat and no indication that anyone was ever sitting there, nothing except the soft flutter of disturbed canvas at the back of the tent.


End file.
